


Mysterious and Curious

by H4T08



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hook-Up, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Picture Promt, Pre-Voyager, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H4T08/pseuds/H4T08
Summary: She met him at a new bar she had gone to, one as far from the prying eyes of Starfleet as she could get. He bought her a drink. She flirted shamelessly. He pulled her out onto the dance floor. She pressed her body against his. There was a lot of drinking and just as much kissing.And, even though he didn’t say anything other than what she wanted to hear, she knew that he was also trying to forget.An AU based on if Kathryn and Chakotay had met before their confrontation in the Delta Quadrant.





	Mysterious and Curious

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is based off of this picture I had seen on Tumblr (coincidentally I had found it through a Doctor Blake page). The moment I saw it, I instantly thought that this is what a younger Chakotay would have looked like (but with a golden tan). 
> 
> What I had originally planned for a vignette, quickly evolved into a full blown story!!

  

 📷: [baby-vintage](https://baby-vintage.tumblr.com/) (original is unknown)

** Stardate 36963.53 (October 6, 2358) **

Bright sunlight filters through the curtain.

Her head pounds.

The smell of lavender invades her nose.

Her tongue feels like wet sandpaper in her mouth.

An arm, muscular and secure, folds over her waist.

Cracking open one eyelid, she instantly regrets it. She presses her lips together to keep the copious amount of alcohol from making a spectacular reappearance.

The body behind her begin to shift, a tired groan being the only sound she can hear from him. Warmth cocooning her body shockingly cools, goosebumps instantly erupting along her bare back, his heavy footfalls carrying him away from her.

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she tries in vein to piece together the night before.

She remembers the fight with her sister, the cruel words exchanged, pleas to see reason falling to the wayside as she denies the truth. After her sister leaves, she dresses for the night, the same night she has had for the past three months since pulling herself out of the tomb of her bed.

_Almost five months since I have lost them_.

She tightens the blanket around her shoulders, her eyes trying their best to block out the unforgiving brightness of the sun.

She met him at a new bar she had gone to, one as far from the prying eyes of Starfleet as she could get. He bought her a drink. She flirted shamelessly. He pulled her out onto the dance floor. She pressed her body against his. There was a lot of drinking and just as much kissing. And, even though he didn’t say anything other than what she wanted to hear, she knew that he was also trying to forget. He bore the same hopelessness in his eyes that she finds staring back at her whenever she looks into a mirror.

With the combined efforts of drinking to forget and drinking to get laid, both left the bar to end up here. _But where is here?_

“I feel like complete shit.” His shadow thankfully blocks out the sun. “I have a hypospray if you want it.”

“Fuck yes.” Her words are muffled against the blanket, but he catches her sentiment. The sting of cool metal kissing the heat of her clammy skin brings sweet relief. With the threat of vomiting subsiding and her pounding headache dulling, she peaks open her eyes and murmurs, “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” It’s only when he shrugs his shoulders does she notice that he is completely naked. Tan skin, gorgeous muscles, and a beautifully hung cock is what stares back at her. “I’m going to go take a quick shower.” He sounds entirely too smug. “If you disappear, I hope you get back to your home safely.” Her eyes wonder up the chiseled peaks of his pecks to catch a small hint of his dimples. “If you stay, then I’m going to eat you out and make breakfast for the both of us.”

With a stupid, little smirk, he disappears into the bathroom. _Those fucking dimples_ , she rolls her eyes as she throws off the covers. Memories of their time in this bed filters through her mind, yet most of it is too hazy, far too many small broken bits of discombobulated moments unable to piece together into a bigger picture. Brushing them to the side, she throws her legs over the edge of the bed and begins to gather her wits and her surroundings.

Ignoring the peacefulness of the flat altogether, she looks for her clothes. Just as she pulls her bra from the edge of the mirror, his whistling tune disrupts her quest to find the rest of her clothes. _What made him different?_ In the three months that she has religiously set to her routine, she wonders what made her change. Yes, the scenery changed along with the men, but she would always remain resilient to never carrying this behavior beyond the scope of the neon lights or the dark back alleys.

_I mean, I have morals_ , she stubbornly recites, _everything else in my life might be in tattered pieces of confetti, but I at least have my fucking morals._

“So, are you leaving or are you staying?”

_Fuck!_ She bites down on her bottom lip. _There goes my fucking morals._ She tries to come up with an excuse as to why she needs to leave, yet her tongue wildly misbehaves when she sees him in the reflection of the mirror. “I can ask you the same question.”

He smiles when she turns to him, those fucking dimples brightening his face as he wags his finger, “Ahh, there you go again, Miss Mysterious, always answering a question with another question.”

The corners of her mouth tug up, they had both decided not to give their names, her reason being that knowing a name is far more personal than fucking them within the shadows of a dark hallway. “I can see that the ‘C’ in your name is still living up to your standard.”

‘TDC’ is the name she had given him – tall, dark, and curious.

His laughter rumbles out from deep within his chest. “Habit of the job, I’m sorry to say.”

She has her suspensions that he is part of Starfleet, but she doesn’t dare to make the inquiry. Maybe, one day, bored out of her mind at all of the paper pushing they are making her do, she will try to look him up in their database. But with no personal information to go on, she suspects that she will not get very far.

Pulling the towel from his waist, he throws it onto a chair. “Does this mean that you are staying?”

Annoyance crawls along her throat, not at his brash attitude, but at her body’s reaction to his smugness; her nipples peak, her muscles quiver in anticipation, all the while her cunt pulses, aches to be touched. “I don’t usually stay with men, I just fuck them.” She takes perverse pleasure in seeing his sly smirk disappear.

“I don’t usually take women back here,” his eyes dart around the room, “yet, here we both are.”

_Here we both are._ She rakes her eyes down the slopes and curves of her naked body. “I don’t want to know any personal information.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I just want to fuck you and then make us breakfast.”

For the first time in the past five months, she cracks a genuine smile. “Deal.”

Instantly, his eyes go from a warm chocolate brown to feral. He stalks towards her, yet she is not fearful of him. He dives down onto his knees, his mouth attracted to the smooth skin inside her thigh. With the heel of his hand, her knee slips over his shoulder as the tip of his tongue draws patterns onto her skin.

She hitches her ass on the edge of the vanity, one hand holding onto the spoke of the mirror while the other captures his long hair. He is not even close to where she wants him to be and, yet, she feels her senses on the brink. He’s teasing her, she knows it, but its not something that she’s used to… at least not what she has become accustomed to in the past three months. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

His huff of warm breath from his quiet laugh causes goosebumps to spread across her skin like wildfire. “I do want to fuck you.” He lightly nips the flesh of her thigh, his tongue instantly darting out to sooth the slight irritation. “I’m just going to take my time.”

She growls in frustration, yet it quickly melds into a moan when the tip of his nose strokes her clit. “I want you to fuck me right now.”

Another laugh, _the smug bastard_ , as he focuses his attention back to her thighs. “I’m not going to fuck you until you are ready.” His broad hands grasp the top of her ass as he ghosts between her legs.

The flat of his tongue teasingly strokes her, testing how responsive she is, and she is nothing if not receptive, excitement stretching her nipples to sharp points. “Fuck!” Her hips roll against his face. She misses this, the sight of a man between her legs making her come undone. She had never allowed herself the pleasure of experiencing this intimacy with a man she would never go out of her way to know his name.

That is until now.

She knows that she’ll blame it both on the angle of her body and the brightness of day long after she leaves his home, but at this moment, she couldn’t care less; not when he is fucking her with his tongue, his teeth scraping against her clit.

With his mouth fully dedicated now to pleasuring her clit, he thrusts two fingers into her.

“God, fuck!” Arcing her back, she climbs higher and higher towards that precipice with each shuddering breath she takes. Weightlessness soon overtakes her body, the intoxicating rush of pleasure flushing through her veins, her heart beating at an impossible speed. This sort of decadence is something that she has become unaccustomed to having, to even wanting, yet now that she has it, she briefly wonders why she had spent the past three months chasing its antithesis.

_Pain can be just as desirable._

And just as that one thought coaxes her down from her high, he captures her lips in a searing kiss. The taste of herself makes her body wilt, her wonton cravings not even close to being satisfied. “Turn around,” he abruptly twirls her around. She barely has time to spread her legs when she hears the telltale rip of a condom wrapper just before he drives in deep.

Holding on to the same spoke she had grasped when he had gone down on her, she tilts her ass up, inviting him to play with her body.

He gladly takes the offer, one hand palming her breast as the other snakes down to tease her swollen clit. His grunts of incomprehensible words mix with the wood clapping against the wall and her guttural moans. Plowing his hips into her, she easily reaches her high twice within so many minutes.

Just as she reaches for her forth orgasm of the morning, the flat of his fingers rub hurried circles along her clit. Tears blur her vision, her stomach clenches, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Don’t… don’t fucking stop!” She grits her teeth, pushing back into him as rough as he is giving it to her. Sucking in one last breath, the rest of her body blissfully falls apart.

“Fuck!” Is the only word she can comprehend as her muscles quiver under the strength of his body as he comes undone.

_Holy mother fucking hell_. She collapses onto the vanity, the feeble strength in her arms the only thing holding her weak body up.

Pulling out of her with a quick hiss, he falls to the floor. “Holy fuck!”

Following after him, they both lie spread eagle on the ground, her body no longer producing the strength nor the willpower to do something as simple as walking, let alone to conduct a search of her clothes. “My sentiments exactly.”

He looks over to her, his dimples in rare form, “Your pussy is glorious.”

And despite all of the fucking she has done in the past three months, she blushes. “You dick isn’t so bad,” she coyly quips back.

He rolls his eyes, his smug smile never leaving his gorgeous lips. “I’m guessing it’s a lot better than the other dicks you have been fucking.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I made you squirt.”

And because that is a difficult accomplishment all in itself, she gives him the credit with the silent roll of her eyes. “And when are you going to make breakfast?”

“When I have finally gained the feeling back into my feet.” He pushes himself up with a grunt. “Care for a repeat performance in the kitchen.”

She rolls onto her knees, her hands still holding up her upper body. “That is one area of the house that I am awful in, so I will take a pass.”

“Fair enough.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to clean up and take a shower.”

Feebly standing up, he reaches down and helps her to her feet. “There is an extra towel on the door. I can replicate an extra toothbrush and some clothes if you would like.”

Rolling her shoulders back in nice, wide circles, she stretches the rest of her aching muscles. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” Giving him somewhat of a shy smile, she disappears into the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck is this?” She holds up the thin, white top from the open door of the bedroom.

“Clothes.” He answers without a beat, his attention still on whatever is smelling so good from the saucepan.

“There are no panties.”

He moves to the side to whisk some eggs in a bowl. “I told you earlier that you have a gorgeous cunt.”

She swallows down the overwhelming desire to pull him away from the kitchen to stuff his cock in her mouth. Instead, she stands her ground. “And where are my other clothes?”

“Washing.”

She takes a calming breath before shoving the flimsy cotton piece over her head. Staring down at her body, she has to admit that she looks sexy as hell. With the scoop neck showcasing her small tits and the hem barely reaching the curve of her ass, she knows that she can get him to literally eat out of the palm of her hand if she plays her cards right.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” he calls out to her. “Do you mind getting the plates and silverware from the hutch?”

By her second step, the form fitting shirt has already ridden up to her waist. _Smug motherfucker knew this would happen._ Ignoring her outfit – or lack of one – altogether, she pulls out the cutlery and hands it to him. “Your flat is really nice. I’m assuming by the Eifel Tower off in the distance that we are still in Paris.”

“It’s actually my friend’s flat.” He flips the omelet in the pan. “He lets me barrow it whenever he’s off planet. Despite the replicator and the entertainment center, there is no other form of technology.” He places the last omelet onto the plate. “It’s nice to come here to surround myself in beautiful things, things that I can only find in Paris.”

“Is this where you bring back all your hook-ups?”

He invites her to sit at the table. “Some, but not all. For the most part, they leave before I can offer them to make them breakfast. You are the first to sample my omelet.” His eyes twinkle in mirth. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Who says I haven’t enjoyed it already.” She sections off a piece and slips it into her mouth. It’s been a long time since she has indulged herself in a home cooked meal. She swallows down a few more bites, enjoying the stringy cheese as she pulls apart her next piece.

Since the death of her dad, her mom has buried herself in her work, telling her once that she doesn’t see the point of cooking a meal if no one is going to enjoy it with her. Her throat immediately clenches, she nearly chokes on her food as tears rush to her eyes. The image of her mom crying in the kitchen violently tugs her heart down into the pit of her belly.

“Is it… is it not good?”

His question helps to push her grief away. She gives him a weak, yet convincing smile, the same one she had perfected for the counselors after her rescue from a Cardassian prison. “It’s quite delicious.”

“You looked very pale just then,” concern clouds his warm, chocolaty brown eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I…” she presses her lips into a fine, white line, “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time and it’s stirring up some memories.” She has refused to talk about anything that is churning inside her to anyone, including her sister and mother, yet, with him, it comes out so easily. Shaking the uneasiness with roll of her shoulders, she gives him a kind smile and changes the subject, “Where did you learn to cook?”

“My mother.” His own face washes over with memories, images she can’t even begin to picture, not without at least knowing his name. “She is an excellent cook.” He stabs his fork through the last few pieces of his omelet, yet, he just pushes them around on his plate.

She can safely assume that he is also going through a shitty time when it comes to family. Swallowing down her last bite, she stands up from the table and reaches for his plate. “Since you cooked, I will clean.” She turns and sashays her way to the sink.

Cleaning the dishes first, she is half done with the pan when he asks, “Are you close with your family?”

She doesn’t answer him, not with her usual quick response that she gives to the other faceless men who tries to ask her impertinent questions. No, she allows her words to melt onto her tongue, those memories that she holds so close within her heart freely replaying in her mind.

“I was extremely close to my family,” his voice takes on a somber note. “Until I made the choice one day to not follow the family traditions, to turn my back on them in lieu of something more exciting, more fulfilling.”

“I followed the family traditions,” she refuses to look at him, choosing instead to focus more on the imaginary speck of baked on grease. “I can tell you, with one hundred percent certainty, that the grass isn’t as greener as you think.”

“The planet my family lives on is becoming dangerous. I have a bad feeling that something will happen to them and the others that live there.” She sets the pan on the drying rack and reaches for the cutting board to clean. “I’ve tried to message my father, to warn him, but he refuses to listen to me. He’s told me that my concern is no longer needed.”

“Have you tried going to him, pleading with him to see reason?”

“I’ve had better luck talking to my mother, however, she stands firm with my father.”

She turns to him now, the rest of the dishes needing to be cleaned sitting in the sink. “Have you made an appeal to Starfleet? Maybe they can do something to help?”

He rolls his eyes, “They’ve done enough.” Anger simmers just under the surface and, not for the first time, she understands his feelings on the subject far more than she care to let on.

At the moment, she detests Starfleet just as much as he does, but not for the same reasons. Owen has tried his best to make her see reason, the counselors deadest on showing her that she can still coexist with the organization that she had grown up loving, even her family has been pleading with her to go back to the one thing that has the ability to darken her soul. She knows nothing else, yet, she can’t see herself stepping back onto a starship in the foreseeable future.

“My mother always says that we are both cut from the same stubborn cloth, my father and I,” he sighs.

For no explainable reason, anger sears down to her bones. “At least you still have your father alive. I’ve had to bury both him and my fiancé five months ago.” She bites down on her lips when his eyes widen in shock. “Go to him while you still can and make him see reason.” All the anger being held in her chest deflates into nothingness as she turns back to the sink. “You’ll regret it if you don’t make the first step.”

“Were you as stubborn as your father?”

“Very much so, but not in the same way.” She cleans the spatula. “He did not like my fiancé so I convinced my daddy to take him along for a ride down to a planet’s surface. Little did I know that it was going to be the last time I would see both of them alive.” There is, of course, more to the story, but she will not divulge. While everyone else in her life claims to help her in her most desperate hour, there is something that can be said to opening up to a stranger you will never see again.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

His words are gentle, but at this moment in her life she needs the complete opposite to function with life’s basic skills. “Yeah, well, you and everyone else.” Her sarcastic comment drives a heavy silence into their shared space. Preferring this to any more personal questions, she finishes the dishes and then wipes down the counter.

“Thank you for listening.” His genuine voice pulls her around to finally face him. He gives her a weak smile as he stands. “I’ll go check on our clothes.” Leaving the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, he opens the door to the terrace to place their clothes on a clothesline.

Pulling down the hem of her shirt, she snoops around the flat. For the most part, the sparse walls give no clues to the identity of its true occupant, the stylish furniture looking as if it has never been used. It is only when she gets to the entertainment system does she finally see character.

“They will be done soon.” He comes in from the terrace and closes the door. “Thank goodness it’s a warm day.”

“Your friend, the one who owns this flat, has a rather eclectic taste in movies.” She scrolls down the list of pornographic movies, each title sillier than the last. “I think my favorite so far has got to be ‘Squirtfleet’.”

“Takes one to know one,” he smugly replies.

She rolls her eyes and turns off the movie selection. “Ha. Ha.” She twirls around to find him sitting onto one of the sofas, his legs wide apart with his growing erection tenting in his boxers. Licking her dry lips, her eyes travel up his broad chest to see his dimples back in action framing his annoying smirk.

“Come here.” He holds out his hand, inviting her to join him.

As much as she has found this day to be far more peaceful than so many others from the past five months, she knows that she can’t stay here forever. “I have to be going soon.”

“I have to leave in two hours.” His smirk easily melds in a mischievous smile. “Come here."

Stepping over to him, she can feel the inside of her thighs slick. Straddling his knees, she lords over him, running her fingers through his long hair. “Do you always keep it this long?”

“No, but I had a mis – I had some things to do and I had to grow it out. Before I leave, I have to shave it down.”

“Shame.” She twirls her finger through his hair.

“Not really. I like keeping it short.” His hands begin to trace long lines up and down her legs, the tips of his fingers ghosting against her throbbing clit.

“Then what will women grab onto when you are fucking them wit’s your mouth?” She pulls his hair back, tilting his chin up. “Something to think about.”

“And will you be one of those women?” He sounds so hopeful and, for a small sparing moment, she almost gives in.

But not at this time, not when her life is just as fucked up as her view of the universe. “No. After today, we will most likely never see each other again.” Bending down onto her knees, she rests her arms on his capable shoulders, her hair wildly framing their tiny shared space. His eyes are magnetic, the heat growing between them cause a bead of sweat to lazily fall between her breasts.

Being the first one to give in, he wraps his hands around her waist, his lips quickly finding hers. This is far too intimate than what she likes or what she has wanted, but this whole morning has been nothing but a surprise. Diving head first into these darkened waters, she returns his kiss, her fingers once again threading along the back of his neck.

He grabs the hem of her shirt, they slightly separate to pull it off before throwing it off to the side. “Tell me Ms. Mysterious,” he palms both of her breasts, “are you going to continue fucking random men in random bars?”

His question doesn’t even phase her, a few past hookups asking the same thing in hopes of fucking her again. “It serves its purpose.” She arches her back, threading her fingers through her unruly hair as her hips roll against his cock. “Are you going to continue fucking random women in random bars, TDC?”

He draws his tongue along the steady line of her sternum, pinching her nipples into submission. “I won’t if you won’t.”

His whispered words bury against her collar bone, yet she hears them loud and clear. “I’m not going to make a promise to a man that I’m never going to see again.” Her hand travels down between their bodies and slips his hard cock from his shorts.

He glances up to her, their eyes meeting, hers with mischief and his with determination. “Then an unspoken promise. I’ll try to fix my relationship with my father, and you’ll try to fix your relationship with your family.”

“I’m not broken.” It’s the same mantra she uses anytime anyone, especially her sister, tries to encourage her to open up.

He captures her cheeks, the depth of his chocolate brown eyes reaching past the point she allows anyone else to see. “Your mouth says that you are fine, your body shows that you have handled your stress with ease, but your eyes…” She tries to look away from him, but his giant, gentle hands cradle her. “Your eyes show a depth of sadness.”

“I’m not sad,” she grits her teeth. She knows that she can push him away with the flick of her wrists, but she doesn’t make a move.

“If my grandfather were to look into your eyes, he would say that you have the markings of a warrior. Strong and fierce on the outside, scars marking your victories and tragedies, yet, on the inside, you possess a vulnerability that makes you compassionate.” Tears rush to her eyes, but she keeps them at bay. “My grandfather would say that you are trying to make your inside hurt just as much as your outside, but your spirit will never break.”

“And you got all of this from fucking me a total of three times?” She finally pushes away with both hands on his chest, coming dangerously close to naming all of the emotions caught in a whirlwind within her soul.

He leans back into the sofa, his hands dropping to her waist. “We might not have had the same life experiences, but I do know what it is like to desire pain and discouragement, to seek it in the seediest of environments.”

“And if I make this promise, how will you keep me accountable if we never see each other again?”

“You don’t strike me as a person who flakes out on a promise, no matter the mercurialness of the promise itself.” He shifts his hands to rest on the cushion. “Make the promise or don’t make the promise, I just figured it would help you get to a happier place.”

She glances up towards the ceiling, she hates it when her bottom lip quivers. “That happy place is so far off into the distance that I can’t even see a small light at the end.”

“It’s there, you will just have to place your trust in a few select people to help get you there.”

Her sister instantly springs to mind. Followed closely by her mom. “I promise,” she blurts out unexpectedly, so much so, that she even surprises herself.

“I promise, too.” She looks into his eyes and smile the barest of smiles, one that she had never seen him wear in the fifteen hours she has known him. “I know this put a damper on the mood. Will you be leaving soon?”

He’s right, he has put a damper on things, but that has never stopped her before. “Soon,” she steps back onto the floor, “but not now.” And before she can lose her confidence, she gives him a cheshire grin as she bends down onto her knees between his legs. It has been far too long the last time she willingly gave a blowjob, but she figures that this tall, dark, and curious man has earned it.

She playfully licks the underside of his cock, one hand stroking his balls as her nails trail along the inside of his thigh. “You, uhh, you don’t have to.”

“But I am,” she licks her lips and pumps him until he is fully erect. Ever-so-slowly, she swallows him whole, her tongue chasing her lips, swirling around the head.

“Fuck,” he murmurs over and over again with each passing flick of her tongue. Goosebumps erupt across her skin as his fingers tug through her hair, silently begging her to go faster.

She speeds up her pace and the strength of her grip, taking him in as far down as her throat will allow her.

“Just like that,” he groans, thrusting his hips to match her pace. “Fuck me with that beautiful mouth.”

His naughty words shoot an arrow of lust straight down between her legs. She can feel his excitement climbing, his incomprehensible chants becoming breathless, goosebumps flushing under her palms, she knows that he is close.

And before he reaches that height, he grabs her by the top of her arms and pulls her up. He crashes his lips onto hers, her senses overloading with the taste of him coating her tongue. He captures her hips and pulls her down, her cunt taking him in to the hilt. Their moans disrupt their kiss, greedy hands trying in earnest to find what will drive each other wild.

Cantering her hips at a pace that rivals her mouth, she pulls his hair back, exposing his delicious neck. “Smack my ass.” She licks a frenzied line from the notch at the base of his throat to the tip of his chin. “Hard.”

He groans as he roughly grabs onto her hips, striking her ass with the hard flick of his wrist. “Like this?”

She grabs onto the back of the sofa, riding him with total abandon. “Harder.” She bites down on the lobe of his ear. “Much, much harder.”

The sound of his palm striking her ass reverberates through the sparse flat, his hand alternates from one check to the other. Twerking her hips, she arches her back as her flesh begins to sting. “You are exquisite,” he roughly pinches her, “I’m going to fucking come.”

She slows her hips to an aching crawl, “How do you want me?”

He frames her waist with his large hand, thrusting his hips into her. “As much as I love seeing her tits bouncing, I want to take you from behind.”

Pinching her nipples, her head lolls back, an unsuspecting orgasm hooking her and tugging from her bellybutton. “Keep doing that.” Her thighs shake, her muscles begging her to relent, yet, it isn’t until his expert thumb begins drawing tight circles along her clit does she rush to that peak.

Collapsing on top of him, he wraps his arms around her, supporting her, trailing the tips of his fingers along her spine. When she has caught her breath, she kisses his cheek just before climbing off. She playfully shakes her ass as she twirls around. “Do you like seeing your work?” She is sure that her ass is a bright shade of red – cherry red, a man with a rather rough palm had bragged a few weeks ago. When she glances over her shoulder, she coyly smirks when she notices his eyes hungrily rake up and down her backside.

He dives forward, his mouth nipping and kissing one cheek and squeezing the other. “Bend over,” he growls as he stands. She, of course, does his bidding with the slight shimmy of her hips. He pulls both of her arms back with ease, holding her up, he plunges into her from behind.

“God, fuck!” She loves it when men manhandle her, the choice and the worry all taken away, euphoria the only feeling left to absorb. Pulling her up higher until she is nearly flush against his chest, his cock stroking her clit at such an intense angle with every thrust. “Holy fuck!” Her nipples pucker, beads of sweat slide down her arched body, her voice is hoarse; she can see that same sweet precipice within her reach. Ecstasy blossoms in the pit of her belly, her muscles tremble as she gladly swan dives off of that cliff.

He keeps her body close, his fingers digging into her skin as he crests and crashes into his own climax. “That was…,” he body continues to shudder, his grip not letting up, “that was intense.”

She tilts her head back, glancing at him over her shoulder to see his eyes shut tight. “You are passionate,” his eyelids flutter open, “far more passionate than I would ever deserve.”

He captures the edge of her jaw with is fingers, his thumb running along her bottom lip before he gently kisses her.

And just as she catches herself drowning in his embrace, she pulls back. “I have to get going.”

She sees the war playing along his face, but she makes the choice easy for him by taking a step out of his arms. “I know that you want to keep this to a one night minimum—”

She shakes her head, “I will never see you again.”

He physically swallows the rest of his words, his eyes drawing down to the ground.

Her chest caves, her muscles pinching and begging to open, but she refuses, not with so much darkness drowning around her. “I’ll keep up my promise just as long as you do.”

He silently nods.

And before she has a chance to change her mind, she walks through the bedroom towards the bathroom. After cleaning herself up, she walks back out to find her clothes neatly folded on the stripped bed. It isn’t until she is dressed and ready to leave when he comes to her in just his boxers. There is so much that she wants to say to him, but instead, she makes her usual clean break. “It was fun.”

“I think it was more than that,” his brow stubbornly furrows.

Her fingers curl into a fist to keep from reaching out to him, her lips pressed into a fine, white line. “Goodbye, TDC.”

And, much to her grief, he finally gives in, “Goodbye, Mysterious.”

 

* * *

 

“Where the hell have you been?”

Not even with one foot through the door, Kathryn hangs her head. “Phebs, I’m sorry.”

“Your… your sor… fuck you!” Phoebe’s harsh words drives Kathryn to close the door. “You can take all your sorry’s and shove it. I’m tired of covering for you, lying to mom, all the while worried sick that some asshole that you picked up at the bar is going to kidnap you and kill you.”

Disgust coats Kathryn’s tongue, “Phebs, please—”

“No!” Phoebe holds up both of her hands. “I’m done. You are dragging me down this dark hole that I cannot follow.” She swipes her tears away. “I can’t do this anymore.” There is no touch, no gentleness, just sorrow, the voice of the one person she loves more than life itself giving up. “Goodbye, Kathryn.”

“I’m drowning, the water barely reaching the top of my head.” Tears rush to her eyes. “I can’t breathe. I can’t think. The only thing I can feel is pain, so deep, so wretched that that same pain is the only thing keeping me alive.” Kathryn squeezes her eyes shut, too embarrassed to look at her own sister in her eyes. “There are days, many of them, that I wish that the Cardassian had put me out of my misery or that I had gone down to the stupid planet instead of daddy and Justin.”

“And you think that we don’t feel just as hurt, just as lonely, as you are feeling right now?” Kathryn refuses to look up. “Just because we weren’t there doesn’t mean we are immune to the pain of losing someone that we love.” Silence drives between the two sisters. “How selfish of you to think that you are the only one suffering, to watch you run out of the comfort of our arms just for you to come back bruised and reeking of sex.”

Pain, far more potent than the sting of various men having their way with her, sears through her heart. She has been reckless while she had hoped her family would pick up the pieces. Now that they are not willing to quest through the dark, muddy waters with her, she knows that she has to do everything in her power to crawl back to their ledge. “Please don’t leave.” She swallows past her guilt lodge against her throat. “I need you.”

Phoebe’s brow furrows, her normally bright blue eyes dark with distrust. “I don’t believe you.”

The wound in her chest violently rips open. “Please.” Tears stream down her cheeks.

“And how do I know that you’re not going to go running off when things get tough?”

“I don’t know.” The truth of her statement hangs between them.

“This is you last chance, Kathryn. You fuck it up, then we’re done.”

Kathryn exhales, the weight of her carelessness still clutching its unforgiving claws around her wound.

“You are going to take a sabbatical from Starfleet and you are going to move back home with both momma and I.” Phoebe crosses her arms along her chest. “There is a psychologist that I want you to see. I really think that he can help you and all I am asking for you to do is to be open enough to give him a try.”

She’s going to regret it, hate it, even rebel against it, but she knows that this is her last chance at redemption. The will to wake up in the morning with a brighter outcome propels her, her penchant to keep promises – even to strangers – drives her to make her decision to her sister’s ultimatum. “I’ll send a message to Admiral Paris and will pack my bags.”

 

* * *

 

** Stardate 48315.55 (February 15, 2371) **

_72,000 lightyears._ Despite all of the data that needs to be reviewed, all of the death certificates that await her signature, all of the crew assignments of the Maquis crew, she finds herself staring at that one number.

_How the hell am I going to bring them home. I don’t even understand how we got here, let alone understanding this vast quadrant of unknown space._

– Beep Beep –

She glances up from her screen, the door separating her ready room and the bridge now the object of her scrutiny. She knows it’s him. She had sent for him to come join her, to talk about their predicament, to help mediate between the two warring crews. “Come in.” _Among other things_ , her mind quietly adds.

He has not changed that much since the last time they had seen each other. _He’s more muscular, if that is even possible, far more gray hairs and wrinkles, but that can be said for both of us. And then there’s that tattoo. I’m not much of a tattoo person, but he wears it well._

He clears his throat, a smug smirk playing along his cheeks as if he had caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. “I was quite surprised to see that Starfleet sent you after me.”

She did not want to start their conversation like this, but, if she were completely honest, she had been lost on how to start the conversation to begin with. “It was not on purpose, I can assure you.”

He lifts his brow in surprise. “Oh, really?”

He wants her to bring it up – their hook-up. “I had never told anybody and, I am assuming, neither had you.”

“It looks, though, that you held up your end of our promise.” He draws his eyes down her body that is visible to him. “You are looking healthy and, if I may be so bold, happier.”

“Yeah, other than trapping both of our crews 72,000 lightyears away from home, I’m peachy keen.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “There are a lot of things we need to talk about, our past not being one of them.”

“Not at this moment.” She opens her eyes to see him sitting in the chair in front of her desk. “My father pushed me away when I had made it to their planet. We had fought and said words, harsh words, in the heat of the moment. When I left, I had made a promise to myself to never return. The Cardassians made sure to change that.”

“Your reason for leaving Starfleet and joining the Maquis movement.”

“At least one of us made good on our promises.” The whispered words under his breath carries guilt heavily on the back.

“I took a long time for me to get this far.”

He nods, his chin lifting. “And what do you suggest for our journey back?”

She straightens her back, thankful that he had not asked any more question on the subject. “You have command experience, not to mention the respect of your crew. I would like for you to serve as my First Officer.”

“And if I refuse?”

She had thought of that, seeing as how she had not seen him in over twelve years, she is sure his disposition has changed, hardened with what had happened to his family and Starfleet’s noncommittal response to the massacre. “I will respect your decision, but we all want to return back home. We have to work together to make that possible.” He opens his mouth, but she quickly cuts him off at the pass. “Make no mistake, if you or anyone from your crew tries to mutiny with the intent to hurt this ship or others, then I will have no trouble dropping them off at the nearest habitable planet.”

“I will need time to think about it.”

“You have twelve hours. In the meantime, your crew has been given room assignments, their access restricted until they have also come to an agreement of their rank, their job duties, and the rules of conduct.” She returns her attention back to the PADD at hand, dismissing him from her ready room.

He quietly stands and makes his way to the door, she holds her breath, hopeful that he will leave with no other lasting questions. “Did you keep it?”

_Fuck!_ “Keep what?” She coolly looks up from her report, praying that he cannot see past the mask she has been forced to wear since taking this assignment.

He opens his mouth, but then closes it quickly, obviously thinking better of it. “Nevermind. I will have my answer for you as soon as I have reached an answer.”

_Phew!_ “Very well.” She returns back to her report and doesn’t breathe until the door has closed him out.

 

* * *

 

She steps into her quarters, groaning at the mess she has yet to clean. She is tired, dog tired, and wishes for nothing more than a few uninterrupted hours in her bed. With Chakotay’s agreement to become her First Officer and his promise that his crew will fall in line, she can now relax without the threat of bloodshed or mutiny.

There have been some skirmishes between the crews, of course, but nothing as bad as a few cuts or bruises that the EMH can heal and sometime in the brig.

“Computer, turn the lights to thirty percent.” She walks over to the side of her bed, her drawer still intact from the shift between quadrants. Opening it up, she digs through the box of pictures and handwritten notes to the small piece of paper.

_I am more than just TDandC and I know you are more than Mysterious. If you ever need to reach me, here is my frequency number. It will even reach me through subspace (since I know that you can recognize where these frequency numbers will take you)._

She had kept it since shad found it in the pocket of her pants after packing her bag. There were many times, thousands, when she had wanted to message him, but she had chickened out at the last minute. Instead, it has served as her good luck charm wherever she has gone and, up until this point, it had done its job admirably.

_How ironic that this little slip of paper has taken me to the same person who had written it over twelve years ago._

Stuffing it back inside her box, she closes the drawer with a final thud. As much as they were compatible with each other a long time ago, she can never allow their previous relationship to carry on, not while they are 72,000 lightyears away from home.

Stepping up to the replicator, she orders a coffee and settles down on the sofa to read the rest of her reports.


End file.
